


One Throw of the Dice

by Wikketkrikket



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel 3490, Marvel 616, Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Insecure Tony, M/M, Skrulls - Freeform, Some Swearing, mc deaths outside of the universe, multiverse shennaigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikketkrikket/pseuds/Wikketkrikket
Summary: Steve shrugged, pulling on his shirt. 'It's not like it's Jane or no-one. Everyone gets more than one throw of the dice, Tony.'He only realised his mistake when Tony didn't say anything, turning away too quickly when Steve turned to look at him. It didn't take too much thought to connect the dots. Tony did think you only got one throw of the dice. Tony thought he, Steve, was that one. The One.In which they realise Tony loves Steve more than Steve loves him. But it's kind of hard to work through it when the Skrulls interfere, and scatter your sense of self to the multiverse.





	One Throw of the Dice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirigibleplumbing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirigibleplumbing/gifts).



> For dirigibleplumbing as part of StonylovesSteve2019! I think this probably isn't quite what you had in mind from your prompt, I'm sorry. But I hope you like it anyway :D (by the way, I love your username!)
> 
> This is a little different to my usual work and time was definitely against me, but that's why it's a challenge. Please be kind :)

He felt his soul stretched thin.

Steve had just finished shaving, with horsehair brush and cut throat razor, and he turned from the washstand to see Stark sitting on the bed, watching him. Steve frowned and said 'What are you doing?'.

At the same time, he was burying his face in the pillow, trying to block out the flickering light as his wife clicked the switch on and off, on and off, gleefully crowing about how she was up first for once. In a moment, Steve was going to reach out and drag her back to bed, making her laugh and squeal.

He was fastening his cufflinks with shaking hands, not sure whether Tony would want them all looking funeral pristine or he would find the whole thing too stuffy.

Steve was in the forties, still tiny, his breath hitching asthmatically. He was in space, he was under the sea, he was tall, he was short, he was old, he was young, he worked in a coffee shop, he was a student, he was a rockstar, a spy, he was Iron Man, Spiderman, the Sorceror Supreme, Hydra Supreme -

No. No, not that, not again. Close your eyes, close all your eyes, take a deep breath. Remember. _Remember._ Somewhere, he was groaning in agony.

Tony. Shit. _Tony._

*

They were woken by the sounds of banging from next door, Thor moaning with pleasure. Tony stirred reluctantly, groaned, and threw his pillow at the wall.

Steve eyed the fallen pillow. Tony had spent more on them than Steve cared to remember, and he couldn't help but feel they ought to be treated with a little more care.

'I'm all for the _throes of passion_ ,' Tony complained, burying his face into Steve's chest now that his pillow had gone. 'But don't they know people are trying to sleep?'

'It's almost 2.30 in the afternoon,' Steve said, after consulting the clock.

'Yes, but I didn't sleep for three days on that mission, that means I get to sleep for three days now.'

'Or you could spend three days converting more of this place so that you don't have to room next to Thor.' Judging from experience, they weren't going to get back to sleep any time soon so Steve slid out of bed and starting searching for his shirt. Tony groaned but followed suit.

'It's a dead celestial,' he said, as if Steve needed reminding. 'I didn't exactly get the blue prints. But sure, keep nagging me Cap, I'm sure I can find you a room near the anus.'

'Well, you know I love being inside a good anus.'

The remark startled a laugh out of Tony, cut off short by a roar of pleasure from Hulk next door. Thor was doing well today.

'Urgh,' Tony groaned again. 'I'm glad they're having fun, and all, but do they have to be so loud? At least we're QUIET about it!' This last was directed at the wall. The banging only increased in frequency, followed by a thud of something breaking. 'And if that's another bed I'm not paying for any more!'

'I bet we could drown them out,' Steve suggested, coming to wrap his arms around Tony's waist. Tony scoffed, but Steve could feel him squirming, pressing onto tip toe, trying to get himself into a better position against Steve's body. Delighted that his suggestion was being well received, Steve bent to kiss the back of his neck.

It was still new, all of this. Steve wasn't quite sure how it had happened either; it had just seemed natural, organic. Ever since the team had reformed he and Tony had been sticking close together, maybe because they had been apart one way or another for so long. Eventually that had tipped over into them going out for dinner or the movies, just the two of them, and finally into going to bed together. To Steve it was obvious they were dating, so he was astonished to discover that Tony hadn't been sure, almost as astonished as Tony was to discover Steve considered him his boyfriend. Apparently Tony had just thought they were 'fooling around'. Steve had been in what he considered the future for decades now, far longer than he had been in his own time, and yet he still couldn't work out what the rules of dating were here. How could Tony not have realised it was a relationship?

Unless that was just Tony, of course. They'd both had enough hurt and heartache over the years to make them wary, and Tony particularly never seemed to think he deserved love. Tony needed more reassurance than Steve had expected, honestly, and Steve knew he wasn't great at giving it, but he tried. At least when he couldn't find the words dragging Tony to the bedroom seemed to work just as well.

'Captain Rogers, you are incorrigible.'

'Am not. I just want to know how loud you can be.'

'Oh, is that so?' Tony twisted around, hooked his arms around Steve's neck. Steve had no idea why, but he loved it when Tony did that, it drove him crazy. He pulled Tony close, was about to kiss him and then – the sounds of _satisfaction_ from next door. Tony leapt away from him with a grimace.

'Sorry, beloved, nothing kills the mood like the sound of Thor and Jen reaching... that.' He wrinkled his nose and went back to getting dressed. A moment later, he asked quietly, 'Do you think they're going to be okay?'

Steve raised his eyebrows. 'They seem to be enjoying themselves.'

'Great, if that's all it is. But, you know, it's always been Thor and Dr Foster. It's kind of hard to picture him with anyone else.'

Steve shrugged, pulling on his shirt. 'It's not like it's Jane or no-one. Everyone gets more than one throw of the dice, Tony.'

He only realised his mistake when Tony didn't say anything, turning away too quickly when Steve turned to look at him. It didn't take too much thought to connect the dots. Tony did think you only got one throw of the dice. Tony thought he, Steve, was that one. _The_ One.

It was crazy. They'd only been going out a few weeks. And Tony knew Steve had loved before; _Tony_ himself had loved before. Except whilst Steve saw his lovers as _a_ lover, Tony had probably seen each of them as _the one_ in turn, only to be disappointed when they let him down. And now, so had Steve. That much was obvious from his face.

'Tony-' Steve began with a sigh, not sure what he could say. He couldn't lie and say he believed Tony was his soulmate, that he believed in soulmates at all. And if he couldn't say that, when Tony clearly did, he wasn't sure what he could say instead.

'Save it,' Tony cut him off. 'Really, don't worry. Good to be on the same page.' He suddenly let out a bitter laugh. 'You couldn't just lie for once, could you?'

Steve set his jaw. 'I wasn't talking about us.'

'So we're the exception? Everyone _gets more than one throw of the dice_ except us?' At Steve's silence, he added, 'Exactly.'

'Tony, it doesn't mean I-'

'I know, I know. It just means that I love you more than you love me. It's not exactly news.'

Steve felt himself begin to flush with anger. His gritted his teeth tighter. 'That's not fair.'

'Why? Because it's not true?!' Tony took a deep breath, working his eyelids with his fingertips. 'I can't imagine being with anyone else ever again. You can. That's the bottom line here.'

'Fine,' Steve tried to keep his tone as gentle as he could, despite his anger at the tinge of accusation in Tony's. 'But Tony, can you honestly tell me you didn't feel the same in every one of your previous relationships?'

'Maybe I thought I did. But it wasn't like this. It wasn't _you_.'

'You probably thought that about them, too.'

Tony threw his hands up in frustration. 'Except I didn't think any of them were perfect!'

'I'm not perfect.'

'Well, not right now you're not. Right now you're just kind of a dick. But you're _my_ kind of a dick.'

There was something in his tone that Steve thought might have been suggestive. He glanced at the bed. Even if he couldn't agree that they were meant to be on some mystical level, maybe he could demonstrate the strength of his feelings.

Apparently not. Tony caught the look. 'Oh, fuck you,' he said, and left.

*

After the argument, Steve had waited in Tony's room for over an hour before giving up and leaving himself. After that, it was only another hour or so until the warning went off and the Avengers were required to assemble again. When Steve arrived, Tony was already there – wearing the armour, his face hidden. He didn't say anything to Steve.

'How much sleep did you two actually get?' T'Challa asked. 'I don't want you falling asleep in the field.'

'About three and a half hours, after three days awake. But I'm fine, T'Challa. The serum-'

'Yes, yes, you're a scientific marvel. What about you, Stark?'

'He should probably-' Steve started.

'I'm fine.' Tony said. 'Last one there's a rotten Skrull.' With no further ado, he fired up the repulsors and flew away.

'I see when you gave me the authority over the team Stark had no more intention of listening to me than usual.' T'Challa sighed.

'Yeah, enjoy that,' Steve replied. 'So. Is it actually Skrulls?'

'Yes.'

'Oh good.' Steve sighed and slung his shield onto his back. 'Always a good day when you fight the Skrulls.' _And argue with your boyfriend,_ he thought.

Later, he would blame his preoccupation with the fight for what happened next. There were only ten Skrulls, a single rebellious landing party that wanted revenge on the Avengers for something or other (Steve wasn't the leader any more, he didn't have to listen), and usually it would have been a relatively simple matter to mop them up. Problem was, that meant Steve had time to think, and the more time he had to think, the more irritated he became.

It wasn't his fault. Tony was moving way too fast. They had too much complicated history to rush things; they were still trying to reconnect; in a lot of ways they still didn't even _know_ each other that well, at least not in a romantic sense. Tony had the benefit of his _dad's creepy stalker collection_ , of a childhood he admitted he had spent idolising Captain America. He already knew practically every anecdote Steve could tell.

And the Captain America thing was annoying too. Maybe Tony saw his armour as part of himself, but for Steve Captain America was a role he put on just like he put on the suit. If it was Captain America Tony wanted, of course he was going to be disappointed by plain old Steve Rogers. It wasn't Steve's fault if Tony was ten steps ahead of him. He couldn't help how he felt, and it would be worse if he lied about it.

Of course, he thought in the back of his mind, Tony couldn't help how he felt either. But that was another story.

He was so busy thinking about this, barely thinking about the Skrull he was currently grappling with, that he didn't notice it's comrades sneaking up behind him until it was too late. They forced him out of sight, to the far side of a parking garage. Too late he realised they were all covering their mouths with some sort of breathing apparatus from the front of their suits and took a deep breath, but it tasted foul. The world span and he fell to his knees, unable to move, clinging to consciousness.

'Cap? Steve? Anyone got eyes on Cap?' It was Tony's voice, of course. He didn't sound too concerned. It was only some Skrulls.

'I'm here,' Steve's voice said, but it wasn't Steve. It was one his captors, who had plucked the comms unit from his ear. _No_. 'Just wrapping up.'

Despite himself, Steve couldn't help but take a sharp intake of breath. With that, he passed out and the world went black.

*

He woke up already fighting, his body struggling on autopilot against the creatures holding him down, clamping him into heavy restraints. One of the Skrulls smiled nastily.

'I was hoping you would wake,' it said. 'Turn him around!'

They did, and Steve paused in his efforts to try and take in his surroundings. Clearly he was on the Skrulls' ship or base. He hoped it wasn't a ship. He knew how drastically his chance of escape fell once he was off the planet's surface.

More pressingly, however, was the pulsing black mass in front of him. It looked hollow, like the mouth of a tunnel, but it was shifting in a way that seemed almost organic. Every so often it would flicker with a crackle of blue electricity, a flash of green light, close up like it was going to disappear before erupting open again. Steve had a feeling he was about to be pushed into it, and that he wouldn't much care for it when he was.

'I know,' the Skrull said. 'It's flawed. That's why we need the Avengers. With Richards dead, the next best authority on the multiverse is your Tony Stark. We need the machine fixed. Then, once we can freely travel the multiverse, our empire will truly know no bounds.'

'Well, I hate to tell you this, but you've got the wrong Avenger. I'm the one with the big A on my head, you want the one with the nightlight in his chest.'

'Oh, we got the right Avenger.' The Skrull sneered. 'Normally our smallest infant could absorb one of your kind's tiny monkey brains with ease, but Stark is... different. He is an aberration. His thought pattern is totally erratic, unpredictable. We would not risk one of our kind trying to take his thoughts and memories in.'

'So basically,' Steve said. 'He's too smart for you. Please don't tell him that.'

'Enough quips, ape. Though it does not yet function as we desire, this machine does already have a very useful function. It can inflict a most unusual and unpleasant torture. But perhaps I shouldn't spoil it for you.'

Steve said nothing. He hated the chatty ones. And he was trying to think of a way to get home from, presumably, being scattered to the multiverse. Or better yet, a way to avoid it happening in the first place.

'We call it Identity Fragmentation,' the Skrull said, obviously having decided to spoil it after all. 'I wonder, will you be able to keep hold of yourself when you're millions of different selves at the same time?'

Well, that didn't sound fun at all; but it was too late. With a decisive shove the table was shoved into the hole, taking Steve with it.

*

'Don't concern yourself, Sheriff,' Tony said, and Steve latched onto the voice, the world swinging back to rights. Steve felt the lurch and the impact of it, like falling from a horse and hitting the ground. His head ached. 'Your dirty little secret knows to leave out the back.'

Steve looked at him. Stark was sitting on his bed wearing only breeches, his shirt hanging open. His skin was clear but for the dark marks from last night's love making, not a scar to be seen. The fact surprised him, but he wasn't sure why. Stark was only a blacksmith, you wouldn't expect to see scars anywhere but his hands.

 _He's the blacksmith here_ , Steve noted, not sure why this surprised him either.

He had taken too long to speak. Stark had gotten up, was pulling his clothes back on.

'Tony,' Steve said, but he wasn't sure why. He did need Stark to leave round the back, and soon, before the whole Timely was up and about to see him go. Except he didn't _want_ him to leave. He never wanted him to leave. So why couldn't he just say that?

'It's fine, Sheriff. Better than a night in the cells.' Stark winked at him. 'Same time tomorrow?'

And the memories hit Steve like a landslide. The night he had first arrested Stark for his drinking, and they had sat up and talked and talked until the blacksmith was sober and Steve half in love already, and they'd gone to bed, and when it was over and Steve had rolled away, sated, and Stark had gotten up straight away, reaching for his clothes, and Steve had felt the smile melting from his face.

'Where are you going?' Steve had asked. He'd meant it to sound plaintive, but the whine had come out more like a growl. Stark had stared at him, frozen.

'You gotta be reasonable, Sheriff,' he'd said. 'I'm already gonna be walking with a limp, here. A man can only take so much. It was only a little drunken misdemeanour.'

Steve had stared at him in confusion, then with mounting horror as he had realised what Tony was saying. He thought this was – he thought this was because Steve had _arrested him_. He thought this was an exchange, his body for getting him out of trouble – he didn't realise, didn't know -

'So, am I free to go?' Stark had asked, that night.

'Sure,' Steve had said, swallowing hard, unable to say what he had really wanted to. He felt sick at the idea that Stark thought that's what their arrangement was, that Steve would do something like that. But beneath that, he had felt the beginning nips of a sadness that had been steadily growing ever since, gnawing away at his guts. Because if Tony thought this was just _business_ , he obviously didn't feel the same about Steve as Steve felt about him.

Even that first time, the idea had been soul-destroying, heart-shattering. Steve had been determined it wouldn't happen again, except that Stark kept getting drunk, and then he would practically throw himself at Steve; and Steve would always wait until he sobered up, thinking he would change his mind, but Stark never did. And so they ended up in bed together, over and over again, night after night, and the shame and the sadness ate away at him, and he promised himself he would stop, but it was always Tony that initiated it, and Steve couldn't say no – he loved him. Pathetic as it was, he loved this man who didn't love him, and he would do anything to be near him. Even if he knew he was abusing his position, his power, even if everything about it was _wrong, wrong, wrong_ , and if he just explained maybe Stark would understand, would reciprocate – but Steve knew he wouldn't. The bottom line was, he loved Tony more than Tony loved him. It wasn't exactly news.

 _That isn't right_. The thought struck him as strange. He could hear it being said, in Tony's voice. But it was the wrong way round. He loved Tony. Tony didn't love him. Tony wouldn't say those words to him.

Except he could hear them. He could hear them, echoing over and over from Tonys who stood a full foot shorter than him, who were old, young, Latino, students, baristas, mutants – endless versions. And, Steve knew, he had said and thought those words countless times himself, old and young, in English, in German, in Swahili, in space, in ancient Greece, in kitchens and coffee houses and high schools and prisons. It was like they kept missing each other. Like they couldn't get it right.

He remembered all of them. Countless different lives pouring into his head at once – the Skrulls – _Identity Fragmentation –_ but he couldn't hold onto any of them, he didn't know which was his, which he was; the stone of the wash basin was cold beneath his hands, he was vomiting into it, the taste was sour and bitter in his mouth, but it wasn't his mouth, it was another Steve's mouth, and yet it _was_ , it was his mouth, and Stark was saying 'Sheriff!' in alarm, but he was slipping away, washed away in the flood of all the thoughts and memories that were both him and not him, and as he fell, he heard the words whispered.

 _I love you_ , he said to the Tonys.

 _I love you too._ The Tonys said to the Steves.

At least they got it right sometimes.

*

He woke up with a start, crashing onto another shore. He rocketed upright in bed, disorientated. A second ago he had been a Wild West Sheriff – still was, he could feel what was happening there in the back of his mind – and before that, before that he had been... the Skrulls. This was what they wanted. He was losing himself. He drew his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his arms. His mind was being ripped apart, scattered across billions of different identities and it _hurt_. Somewhere he could still hear the animal noises of pain the him strapped to the table on the Skrull ship was making.

'Sweetheart?' His wife said, gently, leaving the light switched on and rushing to his side. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to scare you.' He felt her wrap her arms around him, grounding him.

And it was _nice_. It was _right_. In this world, he knew, he did believe, simply and solidly, that they were meant to be. That his whole journey through the ice was for this exact reason, to bring him here to her. So they were married. They were happy. Their love was equivalent, perfectly balanced. It burned inside him like a sun.

The pain from his Sheriff self was still in his guts, even while his heart was on fire. Was this what his Tony felt? Was this what Steve was doing to him? _Hell_.

'Steve? Steve, baby, can you look at me? It's okay, it's okay, you're safe, I'm here.'

'I'm not safe,' Steve croaked without thinking, but speaking was enough to ground him, make the world around him more tangible, the competing voices in his head a little quieter. He looked at her.

But she was beautiful. It made his heart ache again, to see her looking so much like his Tony and yet not. She had a weak chin, and he suddenly understood why his Tony always kept a beard and loved it all the more. When he got back, if he got back, he would rub that beard all over his face.

'Talk to me,' Natasha said.

'Sorry,' Steve said, because he knew this him didn't want to worry her. 'Just a dream, I'm okay now.'

Clearly she didn't believe him. 'Sure?'

Steve nodded, then added, 'Wouldn't mind a hug, though.'

She smiled. It made him melt. He, this Steve, would marry her all over again for that smile. 'Okay then,' she said. 'Lay down.'

So they lay down together in their bed, and she snuggled close, managing to be big spoon despite being so much smaller than him. It must have been an awkward angle but she ran the fingers of her pinned arm through his hair, soothing and gentle. Steve felt himself beginning to relax.

They had spent so many Saturday and Sunday mornings like this, lying close together in the gentle, sleepy quiet. Eventually they would start chatting, about nothing in particular, and then the teasing and playfighting would start, and it would either end in sex or breakfast. Steve liked both ways. They had problems, of course they did, but the problems were all external. They faced them together. It was simple. It was happy. It was beautiful, rare and precious.

He could feel the multiverse. They got it wrong so much more often than they got it right. But it was always them. They always found each other, no matter what.

Oh, no. Tony was right. And Steve had gotten it so, so wrong.

*

He had resisted sleep as long as he could, lying there in his wife's arms, feeling her stroke his hair and hold him close, listening to her reminisce about their honeymoon, the happiest three weeks of his life; but as that Steve drifted off he was awakening to, as, in, another.

The transition was gentle this time. Before it was like riding the rapids, crashing through different identities until he caught on one, but now it was like drifting in, riding a raft on a calm sea on a sunny day. Perhaps it was because he knew exactly where he was going this time. He had felt it there, throbbing with pain, ever since this experience had begun. He fiddled with the cufflinks, trying to get them done up.

This Tony, he knew, had died suddenly from a brain tumour. This Tony had never been his.

'Here, let me,' Jan said. They had been a thing, here, but it hadn't been right. In the end, she had picked an abuser over him. Maybe that was just how it was. Maybe Hank was her Tony. She did the cufflinks for him.

'There,' she said. 'Flawless.'

'Thanks,' Steve said. He wasn't crying. He just felt numb.

It wasn't like he'd never lost anyone before. Grief ran through each of his lives like the spreading stain of black ink. Gail. _Peggy_. Jim. _Bucky_. His mother. His father. Even Tony, in his own life, had been in a coma in a high tech coffin for months; though Steve hadn't so much felt that, being stuck in his own mind at the time.

Hell. He would take the woods again over this. At least then he knew who he was while a monster wore his face.

Here, Tony was dead. Dead in a way that it would probably stick this time, not in glorious but convoluted battle, where there was some hope of a loop hole or a way back, not going out in a blaze of heroism, saving the universe. Just dying, the way everyone else died. Dying as a human.

And Steve was here, getting ready for the funeral, for giving a eulogy where he would talk about his _team mate, his friend, Iron Man_ , and none of the things he should have been able to say, _a boyfriend, a lover, yes, maybe a soul mate_.

Oddly, he didn't get lost in the pain, swept away into this life until he lost himself, forgot who he was. He even found his connection to the rest of the multiverse going quiet. The tragedy gave him clarity. It drew together all the parts of who he was into one place, one mind.

Because he didn't want to be this Steve. He didn't want to be the version of him where things had gone so wrong. He didn't want a dead Tony. He didn't want any of the other worlds he'd glimpsed either. He wanted his. And that meant he couldn't let himself be diluted down, driven mad. It meant he needed to get himself off the table.

The restraints were starting to budge.

He was getting into a black car with Jan and the rest of the original team line up, trying not to cry. He was rolling over to gather his wife into his arms. He was chasing after Tony, right out onto the streets of Timely, to tell him he loved him no matter who was watching. He was asking the cute barista for his number, allowing the alien to reach out and touch him so they could communicate, reaching up to get the books in the library for the hot guy on the engineering course, he was running backstage ignoring the cries for an encore in favour of seeking out the roadie he loved, he was lovingly reminding his ageing husband that they had already been married forty years when he was proposed to yet again, he was telling his king that he had saved him for reasons more than a knight's duty, he was taking Tony in his arms and kissing him, kissing him, kissing him -

The restraints snapped, and Steve rolled off the table, out of the heaving mass of the window to the multiverse. There was no time to catch his breath, he was alone and surrounded by Skrulls. Undaunted, he set to work taking them out. He didn't have time for this. He had more important things to do, like finding Tony, his Tony, and kissing him senseless.

Guards dispatched, he ran from the room, into the hall, and in the direction he hoped was towards the bridge. Two more Skrulls came out and he took them out without pausing, and that made nine. He just needed a window, some way to see where he was.

 _Please not space, please not space,_ Steve chanted in his head like a mantra. Sure, he had learnt to fly the jets – eventually – but spaceships were a bit outside of his skill set. He just needed a window.

At last, he found one. Breathing shakily he looked out. _Please_.

He had never been so glad to see the blue of the summer sky, the green of the grass, that meant this was Earth. More than that, it was a place he knew; a park not far from the site of their original HQ. The ship must have advanced cloaking devices to hide somewhere so central.

That didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting out, getting _home_ – he decided not to waste time looking for a door. With a few good thumps, the window shattered and he was able to climb through, hitting the ground running.

He wasn't quite sure where he was running _to_. Finding a pay phone in New York these days was nearly impossible, and he was pretty sure the Skrulls had taken his cash along with his cell. But he had to call the Avengers, get them out here to deal with the ship, to take him home. To let him see Tony.

Tony was right in front of him. It was his laugh that drew Steve's attention. He was sitting on a bench with Steve's doppleganger, sharing an ice cream cone along with the joke. There was a ring on his finger.

Steve stopped dead. Tony looked so happy that for a moment Steve had the irrational desire to just turn around and leave, let someone who was obviously better at the relationship thing than he was give Tony the life he deserved. Except, of course, it wouldn't last. Once Tony had fixed up their machine to give them proper access to the multiverse, this 'Steve' would kill him without blinking.

It was too late anyway. Tony had seen him.

'Steve!' He said, lighting up with delight and relief, dropping the ice cream cone on the floor. 'There you are! Guess I'm finally done with this guy.'

'What?' The Skrull said, and then Tony shot him in the face with a repulsor he must have had concealed up his sleeve. Tony ran over to him, and Steve opened his arms for an embrace – but Tony stopped short.

'How are you doing, Cap? You okay?'

'I'm fine, Tony.' Steve let his arms drop. He'd forgotten they were fighting. 'How long was I gone?'

'Two weeks.' Tony's face fell. 'We've been looking everywhere for you, pretending this loser had us all fooled so we could try to find the base. Sorry you kind of beat us to the rescue. Were we close?'

'Close. The ship is right over there.' Steve nodded over his shoulder. 'But... how did you know I was gone? You had him.' He nodded at the Skrull unconscious on the ground behind them.

Tony shrugged, couldn't quite meet his eye. 'You never lie to me, Steve. This bozo showed up the day after the fight saying you'd _thought it over_ and _I was your soulmate_ and then got down on one knee to propose. I knew it couldn't be you, not the day after a fight with the Skrulls. You're way too stubborn to change opinion that fast.'

Steve sighed. 'About that-'

'No, no, Steve, please. I just got you back, let's not ruin it by fighting. I know, okay?'

'You don't,' Steve said. 'Tony, they threw me into the multiverse. I was connected to, I _was_ every different version of myself possible, and... it was always you, Tony. I saw every single roll of the dice, and every single time it came up with you.'

'What are you saying?' Tony looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights.

'I... look, I can't honestly say I'm there yet. I wish I was, after everything I _should_ be, I just...' he took a deep breath. He was making a mess of this. 'But I saw plenty of worlds where I didn't have you, where I had lost you, and they were all terrible. So I'm not there yet, Tony, but that doesn't mean I'm not in this for the long haul. I'll get there. And I won't give up until I am.'

Tony rocked on the balls of his feet, his expression uncertain. Steve hated that that look was because of him. From now on, he was going to do everything he could until there was no trace of that uncertainness left.

'If it helps,' Steve added, looking at the glinting jewellery on Tony's finger. 'I really did buy you that ring.'

Now Tony just looked confused. 'What? But...'

'I'm not saying I was ready to give it to you,' Steve said. 'But I saw it last time we were in Dehli. I thought it would be perfect for you, so I bought it. Just in case.'

'Oh,' Tony said, looking at the ring.

'I'm going to need it back,' Steve said. 'For when I get there for real.'

Tony hesitated, then slipped it off his finger, holding it out in the palm of his hand. 'Okay, Cap,' he said, quietly. 'But don't leave me waiting too long.'

'I won't,' Steve said, and he meant it as he finally, _finally_ pulled Tony back into his arms. 'I won't.' He wasn't ever going to let go again.


End file.
